Inception
by Mr.Potter- The Stag
Summary: Post-Hogwarts War. Everybody returning for the 7th year. But for one certain brown haired witch - it's going to be rather adventures. And not mention, rather passionate. Not that she still knows. Mostly AU. No guarantees for the Canon pairings. If you want to read it still, then Welcome to the Story.


**Author's Note: Greetings! So, here's something I'd been trying to share with you all. I'm not going to reveal anything. So, let's get to the matter at hand.**

 **Post-Hogwarts War. Everybody entering in 7th year. Mostly AU, there is no gurrenting for the usual canon pairing. So, please bear with me. Characters can be mostly OOC. So, you guess it, no flames. If you wanna' read it. Then come aboard.**

 **Welcome to the Story, poeple. _Inception_ bids you hearty hoots!**

 **This is new for me. So please, bear with me. Anyways, enjoy the story. I'll see you at the bottom.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't owe anything.**

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 **Chapter – 1**

Black coils of smoke wafted through the chimney of the Hogwarts Express, as the masses of bodies get ready to climb aboard for another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Parents bid their children farewell in the form of hugs and kisses, while the rest of them – having bid their parting farewell to their respective parents – climbed onto train.

However, from the small parting of the seas of cloak cladded figures of several bodies; a mass of bouncing long brown curls rushes past the platform - with the mayhem of their cloak bellowing behind them quite dramatically - that you'd think that some kind of mass murderer is set on loose, and is personally after them for a kill.

Yet: nevertheless, the figure stormed past the swarming bodies with quick yells of apologies while the train whistled with the doors of the apartment begins to seal shut.

"No!" The owner of the rushing body shrieked loudly. But whether in panic or disbelief, nobody could tell.

Adults, who were scattered all around the platform, swivelled around to look after the figure with pity and disdain, as they watched them started a little before they gained more momentum to catch up with the train.

Women's or mothers, either tutted in disapproval or gasped in disbelief as they stares after the running profile. Murmurs of voices trailing behind the figure of how unfitting is for a person to run like that. But amongst them all, a bobbling head of red hair shouted after the figure.

"Hermione!" Molly Weasley, the matriarch of the Weasley clan, shouts – to try and gain her attention so as to stop the girl from running into a risk of being getting hurt. Or worse, from running headlong and getting killed by the already moving train.

But the brown haired girl ignored the incessant shouting as she chases after the slowly speeding up train.

 _Please_ , she thought in desperation. Pushing her legs faster. _Please, no._ _Stop!_

Sadly, her pleading thoughts for the train to stop didn't slow down the speed of the train. If anything, it only gained in its momentum.

Cursing under her breath breathlessly, she willed herself to push farther.

 _Just a little_ _more_ , she encouraged herself, panting heavily now. _C'mon, Hermione._

Fortunately, just as she reaches the door of the seventh coach of the compartment, her eyes suddenly noticed a large pale snowy hand was sticking out from the slightly ajar door.

The fingers of the smooth snowy looking hand curled a little on it smartly; as if beckoning and encouraging her to move forward and grasp it.

Hermione felt a burst of hope filtered through her body, running down her spine like an icy chill.

So, she just did that.

It was though as if time seemed to slow its race, reducing its speed as everything seems to slow down at a pace of a snail.

A hand lifted up to reach for the offered one, and as hers small, slim fingers came in contact with the other one — a sense of comfortableness seems to dawn through Hermione.

But then, it was all finished as the fingers quickly engulf hers in their larger ones, and she was abruptly hoisted inside the warmth of the moving train.

She felt herself being squished against something very solid but warm. Yet, it didn't stop her from gasping desperately for the lack of air to get back to her bearings. Nevertheless, there was no escaping in noticing and being awfully aware of the fact that whoever is the person – their arms were wrapped very . . . _possessively_ around her small petite figure, huffing and puffing.

But be that as it may, she felt grateful and joyful as it dawned on her that she had finally caught her train back to her last year at Hogwarts.

Immediately, she begins to pull back, her mouth opening to thank the person.

"Thank you so—" But the moment she looks up, she felt herself froze in utter surprise and disbelief.

Molten steely-grey eyes looks down at her as the small tufts of silvery-blond fringes skimmed across his forehead. Whipping up slightly from the wind.

Draco Malfoy stood with his arms around her figure as the compartment rattles around them with the gradually increasing speed of the train.

Hermione fell herself blink once in shock. She was consciously aware of her mouth, which have hung open with its jaw almost reaching down for the floor. She was even more aware of the fact about how unattractive and ridiculous she must be looking. But so was the blow of the _astonishment_ that seems to be surging through her still throbbing veins that she didn't seem to _care_ at the moment.

 _What in the name of –_ that was all she could thing, in all the coherent sense of her entire thinking being.

Ever since the war had been fought and dealt with – the Ministry has pardoned the Malfoy's. Or she had heard from the ever sprouting mouths of the Patil twins and her friends. Nothing has made sensed to her since the war was finished. So, she didn't try to think for anything other than the fact that she must get back to her parents so as to restore their memories. Having left the Weasley clan and her two best friends; she travelled across the country to Australia in search of her parents. But fate seems to have other plans because once she discovered that her parents were much happy without her, she decided to leave them all alone; much to her own heartache.

So, now, she lives back in her childhood house. Had been their since she returned from her trip, and tried to re-built the house. Her friends did come in search of her and give her all of their support.

It has been months since the war finishes, and everything had went back to normal. Well, as normal as anything could get. Besides, she has took liberty upon herself after much thorough contemplation to end things with one redhead, which is to say; Ronald Weasley.

To say things were awkward when she'd tried to broach the subject of their somewhat relationship in-between them would be an understatement.

But once Ron had heard her much stammering on her part regarding the matter – he had quickly consent to her wishes, much to her complete amazement.

"I know what you mean, Mione," he had said to her, with his blue eyes staring solemnly deep into the crackling embers of the fireplace of the Weasley household. "I understand."

She had felt guilty and terrified that Ron might end their long term friendship after this. Or worse, might hate her.

But she'd been in for surprise when he'd turned his head around to shot her a grin of relief, his ears reddening. "No offense, but I really don't imagine you as my girlfriend. You're far too annoying and bossy."

Mock- gasping, she had swung a kick at his direction, which he had easily dodged with a booming hearty laugh.

So, things were even in between them. Yet still, she had tried to maintain her distance from the Weasley and herself. No matter what, she'd felt sick and embarrassed at having to show her face at a place where she had spent her entire schooling era, mingling with them. And now to face them – especially the mother of the clan, after the break-up between her son and her – was humiliating in Hermione's opinion.

But all the same, she was glad and delighted in knowing that her other best friend – Harry Potter – has decided to start dating her only true true and now girlfriend, Ginny Weasley. No matter the case, she still keeps in touch with the only girl of the Weasley clan, and was ridiculously happy in knowing that Harry and Ginny are going out again.

Anyhow, it might not be hard to guess as to why she was too late in catching the train without being there with the rest of her troop of friends. To only avoid meeting the matriarch of the family was the sole reason. And adding to having a time to ready herself for the future would be far from the truth.

But now as she stood embarrassingly flushed against the once former Death Eater and her bullier from her entire schooling era – she desperately wished that she had come before and faced her fears.

Because, _anything_ is better – even facing the ever sweet Molly and her friends questioning of abandonment – than to face _this._

Instantly squirming in his hold, she hastily backs away from him, trying to put as much as distance between them as possible. Averting her eyes to the ground, she tries to search for the words in her mind to deal with this rather awkward situation. But she gasped inaudibly when she felt a rush of whipping cold wind behind her back, ruffling her already windblown. Which fanned across her figure in a swirls of long brown tendrils. Her eyes widening in horror as she realised that she had only backed herself in the arms of death itself.

But a pair of arms only pulled caught her arms as Malfoy pulled her flushed against his body. Leaving no breath of space between them.

It felt intimate. And so... _romantic._

Hermione felt herself blushed furiously.

"I won't stop you, if you're so much keen to go off yourself," he drawled calmly. His warm, minty breath washing down her slightly upturned face and making a chill ran down her spine. Hermione suppressed the urge to shudder as she continues to stare up at him quite blankly. "But Weasel and Scarhead would probably have my head, if they got the wind that I was there while you were committing your suicidal attempt."

And then, she felt herself sinking back into reality.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Since when do you really start missing an opportunity to have a go with them?"

His stormy eyes ran lazily around her face as he continues to stare down at her. Either not having heard her question or simply choosing to ignore it.

But it made Hermione to hastily avert her face on the ground as she once again wiggle in his arms, abruptly self-conscious and nervous. Not liking the way he was looking at her with that... raw intensity. Yet; having no idea as to why – she, all of a sudden – has started to feel like _this_ other than the contempt and hate while being in his presence? Why did her heart skipped a beat when she realised it was _him_ who had helped her? Why do she feels something tickling the contours of her stomach when she'd continued to stare up into his eyes?

And why did it make her feel so _weird_?

This time, she ducked under his embrace and skips past him, so as to not repeat the earlier stunt. Once safely standing beside the walls of the compartment, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Malfoy had slowly turned to face her. And now he watches as she absent-mindedly rubbed the sides of her waist, probably soothing the stitch she must have gotten with all that exertion.

"Where are your Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Granger?" he questioned her, his voice void of any emotion. But when she meet his molten eyes once again ( _Not molten_ , she thought to herself. _More like a pool of liquid silver._ Before she berated herself for entertaining such thoughts.) – and all the while, ignoring the way it made her feel – she saw curiosity and interest.

She pursed her lips before she replied back, "It's none of your business, Malfoy." And with that, she turns around to start marching down the long aisle of the coach.

But she wasn't surprised at all, when she heard him retorted back, "Why, did you get tired of deciding who's the most lousier better suited for you?"

Instead of turning around and hexing him until the next century; Hermione kept her calm and continued to make her way down the aisle. But couldn't help but speed up her pace so as to leave to _git_ behind.

Unfortunately, today was really just not her day, because the next thing she knows – Malfoy was walking just right beside her, easily keeping up with her brusque pace.

She tried not to groan out loud in frustration.

"And is that how you express your gratitude to the person who just helped you?" he taunts her with his low, full of contempt drawl.

Without looking at him, she rolled her eyes at the compartment far ahead of her, as she replied back too sweetly, "Now, Malfoy, do you really count as a person?" she asked him innocently. Before snorting mockingly, "I suggest you to _think_ again," she said as she increased her pace more. Trying to leave him behind her again while her head turned to look into the passing by rows of compartment to see whether her friends were in them.

However, she was slightly startled when he laughed behind her back. Turning around, she stopped on her tracks, she watched as Malfoy stood just few steps behind her, his lips curled into that oh so familiar famous smirk.

 _Or was it near almost smile?_ She wonders to herself. Feeling herself somewhat reeling for the image of his somewhat genuinely amused face.

"Be careful, Granger," he warned her. Still smirking, he tooks a slow step forward. "You wouldn't want to have dock points from your house on your first day, do you?" he tsked as he took another step. Nearly close to touch her face with his hand. Watching her as Hermione eyed him with shrewd suspicion and confusion. While she debated upon taking a long step back. But he finished first before she could act on the impulse: "We are not even in the school yet."

Her eyes narrowed at him, asking in a low tone: "What do you mean?" she asked him, curiosity getting the best of her.

Tilting his head to a side, he raked her face once again, "Do you, by any chance, read the letter?" he inquired, talking slowly as if speaking to a small child.

Abruptly irritated, she snapped, "Yes, I have!"

But it didn't falter his smirk. If anything, it grew even wider. "Then, pray tell, Granger. You must have know who is the Head Boy for this year?"

For a second, Hermione stared at him with a funny look. But when she remembered the letter, when she had received back in her house. Her mind whirled when she also remembers having accidentally slipped some of her coffee onto the letter in her excitement in being the Head Girl; which had unable her to read the last part of the letter.

But now, as she stared at Malfoy, she felt her heart stuttered to a stop.

Malfoy raised his brow at her when he watched her paled all of a sudden. But this time, he didn't smirk at her in victory.

If anything, he suddenly jerked as if been electorate, and winced as if in pain.

Hermione only shake her head slowly in denial while she stared at him.

She honestly thought that he would taunt her more. Maybe even call her some names and threatened her or something. While she struggles to restart her heart and try not to start hyperventilating in front of him, feeling the wave upon waves of horror washing throughout her body. He watched her with a look almost akin to... concern.

But she was shell-shocked when he simply rolled his eyes, smirked evilly and walked away hauntingly with, "See you at the feast, beaver."

Shell-shocked, indeed.

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 **A/N: I don't know if the updates are going to be quicker. You all knows my style and rather erratic updates. (I'm blushing over here. But whether from embarrassment or shame, I really don't want to know.) So, yeah, no promises. Furthermore, I do hope you like this. Read and please review. Put me alert, people. I'm waiting over here.**

 **P;s: If you want me to continue this and update sooner - REVIEW then! They makes me happy.**


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